Tuesday, April 12

A little tidbit from my top secret first attempt at blogging.  Keep in mind, dear reader- by yesterday I mean April 11.

I came unwound yesterday for reasons still unclear. For at least a week now, I have been building in energy, thinking it would crest into some of the productive exuberance I have known. Instead, it twisted into an implosion.  A retail smile hardened on my face while my tethers frayed and snapped.  My hearing went.  Sounds became vauge and distant like my head was underwater.  I found myself stopped in the middle of small tasks, staring at nothing, my eyes still and unfocused, drowning.

As with deja-vous or a sneeze, you kill it by calling its name. I told my coworker, a college student who shares her secrets with me, I am having a panic attack just now. She listened so generously and intently, my voice happy and calm, smiling through my terror, how surreal it must have sounded. Did I need any help? Well you see, its like when you look at a light and then close your eyes. Those spots you see? If you stare directly at them they drift and fade. I need to face this head on, to say it out loud. It usually goes away if I do that.

It stayed. It worsened. I spent that entire afternoon at work quickly building to something that spoke of bad times ahead; hard rain in the midwest from a green sky, you know a twister is coming. I feared days in bed, unable to talk or eat, shivering under blankets whatever the temperature. A few days ago, my husband and I had agreed that I would finish the taxes last night but I asked him if I could write instead, I needed to, I was freaking out. Of course honey.

I don't know how to explain what happened next. I sat down in this very uncomfortable chair. It didn't lift but I got my bearing. I sent some emails out. Please help me. This could get bad, to a dear friend who I knew would send me her love instantly, to a near stranger who I suspected would reply, to a list of women who have been there. I threw those ropes out and started putting other words down. I got replies. We care. You will be okay. Something shifted.

By the time my therapist appt came two hrs later, I was exhausted. I didn't think I could ride my bike the nine tenths of a mile. I did, though, and I finished breaking when I sat in her chair. My whole body felt so heavy. I could barely speak. When the words did come, they were slow and quiet. She pulled me through it, put it all in perspective.

I went home, sent out some more emails, suddenly feeling all the sleep I hadn't been getting this whole week. I woke up this morning surprised to find the storm had missed me. I did what I could to make it stop, then hunkered down, ready. It just never got bad. Asking for help, putting words down, it worked.

My god. I stared those spots away.

Comments

[julia]

I may be overstepping my bounds here but, do you by chance take meds for this problem? It has been known to help. You said you were seeing a therapist so I assume you explored that already.

Well written for a first post

[Bakerina]

Oh, my dear, I remember this one. Time has not blunted the impact of this at all. Your ability to stare those spots away never ceases to amaze me.

[Pearl]

The voice being low, flat and controlled is a clear hallmark and that slowed motioned fatigue can come in varying degrees. On the outside it can look as vague tireness and contentment. My guess is that one the outside the lines drop out of the face so a person looks calm.

Words can't describe and yet you've done it. Panic attacks have so many shapes. When I first got them 15+ years ago, I didn't know what it was so named them petit mal and grand mal attacks. A third (medi-mal?) kind since arose where senses are spiked.

We learn to navigate, understand the early clues and understand them to a degree over time, eh?

[Pearl]

You still about?